The SparrowChapter Three
by okamiwarrior
Summary: I started this fanfiction about five months ago after reading "To Kill a Mockingbird" in English class. I hope you enjoy! :D


**Chapter 3**

Two days later John arrives in Maycomb, Alabama. As he drives his rented car down the main road, he observes that nothing has changed since his last visit. This much he expected, in a small town nothing really changes but the people. Several times he receives some curious glances from multiple townspeople, in which he didn't recognize. He began to wonder if his friend would recognize him. It had been so long since their last encounter. He smiles as he recalls fishing with him. They never actually fished, but swam. In those days the summers were hot, and long. The only pleasure was the cool, rushing waters of the local creek. He also recalled how good of a shooter his friend was. John had heard, various times, that his friend had ceased to shoot a weapon. He sure hoped that wasn't so.

Upon arriving to his destination, he parks his car in front of an inviting house. While placing his Fedora on his head, he makes his way out of the car. He doesn't shut the door immediately, but stands there, observing his surroundings. In the yard, he notices a tree bearing an elaborate tree house. He smiles slightly, remember his pathetic attempt at building his own tree house. As he closes the door to his car, he glances over at the, less inviting, neighboring house. He stares, wondering if young Arthur Radley was still living.

"John! My God is that really you?" a clear voice rings in John's ears as he looks to the voice's owner. A broad smile stretches across a square set face of a tall, well dressed, man. He walks toward john, with an outstretched hand. John simply smiles, in response, and meets hands with him.

"I'm pretty sure it's me Atty," John chuckles. Atticus casually places his right hand on John's back, and guides him towards the porch.

"How are you?" brown eyes peer at John from behind thick glasses. John shrugs slightly.

"I've been better Atticus," John says this in a dreary manner, but quickly recoils, not wanting to worry Atticus. Atticus pauses at his porch stairs, staring at his friend with concern in his eyes. "I'm fine Atty, don't worry," Atticus sustains his grave gaze, but allows another smile to creep onto his face.

"So, what brings you here? Will you stay?" John looks at Atticus with a neutral gaze.

"I have a-"

"Atticus, who is this?" John looks to see a young girl standing in the doorway. A brief flash of sadness streaks across John's eyes. Atticus outstretches his left hand, gesturing to John, but no words make it from his mouth.

"Oh hello Scout! My have you grown!" Scout tilts her head, an inquisitive expressing crossing her face. John forces a small grin as she slowly approaches. Casually, John removes his Fedora, while bowing dramatically. "My name is John Lee Collins, madam, pleased to make your acquaintance!" John glances at Atticus, whom is grinning, while rising once more to his full height.

"The pleasures all mine," Scout chuckles.

"Scout, run along now, go check on your brother," Scout opens her mouth to protest, but Atticus shakes his head abruptly, causing Scout's shoulders to sink. With a slight sigh, she turns, disappearing into the house. Atticus sighs as he slides his hand down his face. Slowly, he begins walking up the porch steps to sit on the swing.

"Now it's my turn, are you ok?" Atticus glances at John, and shakes his head.

"See, unlike you I can be honest!" Atticus grins absently, as John chuckles at his remark. Atticus clears his throat slightly while leaning back in the swing. "What were you saying earlier?" John exhales deeply, and then removes his Fedora. He looks down at his hands as they turn the ebony hat at the rim.

"I need your advice on something, Atticus," John stares turns his back on Atticus, and rests his palms on the porch railing, staring absently at the road. He contemplates how he should approach this. Atticus simply looks over at John, his face baring a questioning, yet patient, gaze. John sighs while shaking his head; he turns back towards Atticus, and leans against the railing. "Yet, I wish not to burden you."

"What! No, no! You would never burden me, and besides you came all this way!" Atticus says, narrowing his eyes. John sighs once more and then replaces his hat onto his head.

"Just recently, I have been confronted with a case. It seemed normal enough, a simple attempted rape and murder of a twenty-three year old woman. So, naturally, I accepted it. You see, they have already captured the killer, but they need evidence against him. The man in custody claims that he, himself, is actually a witness to the murder, and the person that accused him is the true killer. It's a mess!"

"So, you're saying, the man was falsely accused for a crime he didn't commit?" Atticus leans forward, placing his elbows on his knees. John nods, while crossing his arms on his broad chest. "So, why do you need my help?"

"The man is black Atty. Yes, the court in New York is kinder than down here, but he is a runaway slave. If he goes to court, they will be obligated to send him back to the South, and undergo his owner's punishment. I have to prove that he is innocent before he is sent to court. I feel that you have more experience in these mat-"

"He would've still been alive if I had experience," Atticus said calmly, his dark brown eyes growing cold with regret.

"Knowing you, you already knew that the trail was lost. Knowing you, you fought for his innocence, despite the odds!" John exclaims. Atticus looks up at John with a slight grin.

"You know me all too well."

"I know I can help this man Atty, I just need your advice," John stares with a pleading gaze. Atticus sighs softly, and then nods.

"Only if you stay the night," Atticus smiles playfully, and John nods with a grin.

Scout peeks out the bedroom window, trying to hear what Atticus and John are talking about. She listens intently as Jem tries to sit up in his bed.

"Scout, what are they saying?" Jem whispers, craning his neck to peer through the blinds over his window.

"I'm not sure something about a case," silence follows this response. "Jem? You met him?" Scout turns away from the window and stares at her brother with a renewed curiosity.

"Who, John?" Scout nods in response. "I remember him visiting Atticus and mother when I was younger, but other than that, no," Scout's eyes shift downward in slight disappointment. Jem sighs softly, "Look all I know is that he has been Atticus's best friend since childhood, and that he a P.I. in New York."

"P.I.?" Scout's face fills with excitement at the strange word. Jem simply rolls his eyes and leans back against his pillow.

"Private Investigator Scout. In other words a paid detective," Scouts eyes bright immensely. "They saying anything else Scout?" Scout presses her ear against the window, listening intently.

"I don't hear 'em no more!"

"Swell deduction, Scout. You would make a fine detective!" John leans on the doorframe, with Atticus standing behind him.

"Scout!" a loud voice echoes through the house.

"Yes Calpurnia?"

"Come here!"

"Yes m'am," Scout's voice drops in sync with her shoulders. As she walks by she glances up at John, who offers her a pleasant smile. John turns his head to see Scout disappear into the kitchen.

"Jem, I don't know if you remember him, but this is John Lee Collins. He's an old friend of mine," Atticus walks into the room to sit in a chair placed next to the bed. Jem pushes himself up slowly with his capable arm.

"Yeah, I remember him. A P.I. right?" John nods politely.

"Heard you had quite an adventure the other night," Jem simply nods his head. "Take care of that arm, you'll need it for football," Jem's eyes widen, and he casts a glance towards Atticus. "Thank you for your advice Atty. I best be going," John bows his head slightly, and begins to turn. Atticus leaps to his feet.

"Oh no you don't! Remember, I give you advice, you stay a night," Atticus steps between John and the door.

"Precisely, **a **night," John pauses, a triumphant grin appears on his face. He steps to the right only to be blocked once more.

"You know what I meant John; quit twisting the facts to suit your preferences!" Atticus crosses his arms defiantly, and lifts his square chin. The man looked almost comical, a strand of hair drifting over his spectacles which were slightly askew. A series of giggles could be heard from behind John. Jem was finding the situation to be particularly amusing. John sighs, rolling his hazel eyes.

"Maybe another time Atty, I need to get-"

"Knowing you, there won't be another time! Do you really think they will miss you that much? They're not children!" Atticus exclaims. A brief silence follows, leaving John to ponder silently to himself. He lifts his delicate, yet rough, hand and strokes his chin thoughtfully. "Besides, you haven't showcased those brilliant pipes of yours!" John's eyes widen in alarm.

"Yes, they will be missing me," John struggles to push past Atticus, who blocks the door with two muscular arms. "Atticus stop we aren't children anymore, come on!" John continues to try to push past his friend, but finds no success at his feeble attempt.

"You can sing too?" John ceases to escape and looks down to see Scout, whom is standing behind Atticus. She stares up at him with a curious gaze, one which is enlightened but naïve.

"Not anymore…" he replies sadly. His face grows slightly grim, Scout reminding him of someone he once knew. He stares blankly at her for a moment, unaware that Atticus had lowered his palms to rest on his hips.

"Aww, come on! Sherlock ain't scared now is he?" Atticus's voice rings in John's ears, pulling him out of his dream state. Scout casts a peculiar glance towards Jem as she squeezes by her father. Jem simply shrugs in response, not sure what the deal is with Atticus. Neither of them had seen their Atticus act so childish in their life. John stares Atticus directly in the eye, a grin stretching across his face; one which had been absent for so long it was unfamiliar to him.

"Me? Oh, no way Watson!" John grins, revealing pearly white teeth. He suddenly recollects his fan boy days of devouring Sherlock Holmes novels with Atticus.

"Good, then you wouldn't mind joining me for a little get together in town?" John glares at Atticus for a moment knowing he knows that he hates being around other people. After a momentary stare-off, John finds himself surrendering to Atticus with a slight shrug, and they casually walk out of the house, leaving Scout and Jem in a flurry of confusion.


End file.
